This is so lame, I apologize in advance, but here goes:
So I run into an old old friend earlier for the first time in years. Big hugs, catch up chit chat, he mentions he’s having a few people over to listen to a concert playing at an outdoor venue across the street. Alas, I have the kids, I don’t think I’d be able to. But I say I’ll ask my sister if maybe she’ll watch them. Cool. Parting pleasanty, big hug. Number exchange.
So, yippie, my sis can watch the boys. I call to confirm and the number’s out of service. It sounds like his voicemail is wacked. So I look to see if he’s in the book. He’d mentioned his street when we spoke and there he is. So I know his house number.
Would be totally stalkerish to just show? The dead number sucks–was it an intentional blowoff? He seemed really sincere, went out of his way to yell out to me, etc. I don’t know what to do! I get to go out like, once a year anymore, and this concert is one I would really like. But I don’t want to be the crazy chick who crashes after a fake-polite invite and blow off number.
SDMB–my evening is in your hands, what would you do?
Oh, and the concert starts in like an hour so I need feedback ASAP.
No, I don’t think it’s at all stalkerish. He mentioned it to you, as well as where he lives. Also, you did try to leave a message. Whether you could make it at the time he mentioned it or not, things are always apt to change. I’ve had it happen a few million times.
He also could have had some problems with the phone number, or one of you wrote it down incorrectly. I’ve had that happen a few million times, too.
You’re not “some crazy chick”. Well, at least I don’t think you are…
Just go! Have fun! Be away from kids! Have fun!
It would be different if you hunted him down from the 'net, found out where he was and proceeded to throw your body at him the minute you walked up. That would be more “stalkerish”.
In this instance, I’d just go. Did I mention have fun? Have fun!
Did he invite you? As in “hey, wanna come to this thing?” Then you’re not a stalker.
If he didn’t want you there, he wouldn’t have invited you. Maybe he transposed a number when he wrote down his phone number. Maybe he forgot to pay his bill and got his phone disconnected.
If you go and you get the cold shoulder, he’s a dick.
Okay, I’m going to give it a whirl.
And Giraffe, shows what you know. The mustard stain was on the shirt I tried on before I tried on the one I’m wearing now.
By the way, if it turns out that this was an elaborate hoax planned in revenge for some forgotten slight, and I walk into a Carrie-like ambush, I’m holding each and every one of you personally responsible.
Does the number he gave you match the number in the phone book?
If so, then he almost certainly wanted you to come, and there is something wonky with his voicemail.
If not, I’d call the one listed to confirm. Mention that you tried the number he gave you, it didn’t work, so you looked in the book in case he was there.
Well, the number he gave me was a cell phone. Same company as mine it looked like. And the number in the book got a cranky guy who said I had the wrong number. But it’s my friend’s name listed with the adress, with the Jr. and everything, and I asked for him by name. So it seems like he dropped the landline, got a cell, and now some poor slob gets all his old calls.
I did the same thing recently, and my old number is still under my name in this book. So it’s debatable.
I’m sitting at work mildly hung-over and thouroughly exhausted–so you know that means I had fun! *And * we made plans to go out on Saturday. It worked out very well, thanks to my trusty dopers.
They’re completely platonic plans and will involve no booty of any kind. yet?
Actually, I don’t know for sure what we’re doing–I’ll have to have an update on that later.
As to the bum number, he had spaced and given me his old cell phone number. He was quite contrite, and relieved that I came anyway. I had fun, so I was too. The concert was good, and we saw David Crosby walking back to his bus. He looked like a little hairy white smurf.
